18. Anastasia
Chapter 18
Anastasia
Clap. “Position one.”
The tutu-clad girls move in unison, their heels pressed together and their toes pointed out. I clap again, guiding them into the next position. I was up all last night, trying to decide if I’m insane or a genius. On one hand, I don’t believe for a second that Bash just wants someone to pretend to be his girlfriend. As much as I hate to admit it, he definitely doesn’t have to blackmail someone for that. Which means he’s not telling me what he really wants.
On the other hand, his offer is too good to turn down. Until last night, I was hopeless to figure out how to get that tiara. It’s not the first time I’ve thought Bash would be the perfect strategy. I just wish I knew what I was risking to get his help.
There’s something about the way he looks at me. There’s an intensity in his gaze as he studies my every reaction. I’ve been successfully hiding myself for years, but he sees through me like it’s easy. I build my mask brick by brick until all the world sees is a blank wall. One that says I’m the perfect little princess, with no other motive. Even my love of ballet helps build that image. The one that says I strive to fit into this society. It’s only been my brother’s protection that’s kept the vultures off me. My own father would have sold me to the wolves if he’d managed to care about anything other than his grief.
Just another reason why I refuse to give in and marry whoever my grandmother chooses. I’ve subtly fought against that my entire life, careful with my every move to make it seem like I’m innocent.
Bash is entirely too perceptive, able to see through my carefully crafted persona. He wears a deep-seated satisfaction with each morsel he figures out. The question that keeps playing in my mind is, why me? What about me has the notorious bachelor so interested?
“Miss Ana. You missed position three,” Charlotte says from her spot, hand still resting on the bar. Her head is tilted, and I can see a similar confusion written on all the girls’ faces. It’s not like me to space out during their lessons. Not when this is the one thing I keep for myself.
I plaster a warm smile on my face and snap myself out of it. “Good catch, Charlotte. I was just testing you.”
She pinches her brows together, not quite old enough to spot the lie. Thank God.
I clap my hands, and they move into the next position, their muscle memory taking over, and forget about my mistake.
The last thirty minutes of class feel like they drag on forever, each minute ticking down painfully until it’s finally over. I hate that I feel this way, like I can’t give them my all. Once this is all over, I promise I’ll be better.
Unknown: Do you miss me yet?
Unknown: Thought you’d learn it’s useless to ignore me.
Instantly knowing who it’s from, I silence my phone.
Charlotte smiles at me, dimples on full display. “Who’s that?”
“Someone annoying,” I mutter under my breath.
She’s as curious as all children are, but I’m saved by her mother coming in to take her home. She runs to her, arms wide, and her mom catches her in a hug. I hide the pain behind my smile.
The rest of the parents filter in at the end of class, picking up their smiling children, and I wave politely as they disappear out the door. “See you next week.”
I lock it behind the last one, needing to make sure no one walks in. I need a few minutes to get my act together before heading home. I sit on the chair by my desk and untie my laces. They’re expertly wrapped around my ankles and finished with a bow. There was a time I had to replace them every week, back when I danced competitively. Not because I wanted to win but because it helped me forget. There’s freedom in ballet; the technical skill makes it impossible to think about anything. My mom’s vacant eyes or the way my father never hugged me again. All of it disappeared as I moved onstage. Which is why the accident where I tore my ACL and required surgery was devastating. I’ve never been good enough to compete at that level again. It was these young dancers that saved me, gave me something new to fill that empty spot in my life.
Once the distraction of finding the tiara is over and everything goes back to normal, I’ll depend on them once again. They thank me like I’m the one doing a favor, but it’s really them.
No matter what I do, my mind keeps turning to last night. Memories of Bash’s mouth on mine and the way I wanted to get lost in him. How it felt to have his leg pressed into my core and his wide shoulders under my palm. My hand rises to my neck. His stubble scraped the sensitive skin as he left love bites in his wake. I had to cover the entire section with makeup to avoid suspicion.
My phone vibrates, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Nikolai: How’s it going?
My fingers are already typing out an annoyed reply before I realize it’s not Bash. Embarrassment floods me, and I’m glad Nikolai can’t see my face. He’d know in a second that something’s up. And that something being making a deal with Bash Everette would not go over well.
I erase the message I was about to send, replying simply.
Me: All good. I think I have a plan.
Nikolai: You’ve got to give me more than that. I’m worried about you.
My chest tightens. I’ve never lied to my brother like I’ve been doing recently, but there’s nothing I can do about it except pray he never finds out.
Me: I thought we talked about you trusting me.
Nikolai: I know, but something’s up.
My head rests on the desk as I try to come up with a reply. Something that’s mostly true.
Me: I’ve got this. I promise if I needed help, I’d let you know.
I huff out a breath. Better than nothing.
Nikolai: Fine. Keep me updated.
Me: Will do.
My phone makes a thud when it drops into my purse, out of sight, out of mind. I think I’ll go insane if I have to answer another message.
Guilt sits like a stone in my stomach, but I push it down. Working with Bash is the best way to get the tiara, even though it’s a risk. All I have to do is get that tiara, and he and I can go back to acquaintances. After all, he’s using me too. I’m his current amusement. Something to break up the mundane of his daily life. Bash is a man who’s always seeking out the next thing to give him a kick of adrenaline, and right now, it’s me.
He’s playful and fun, where I’m boring and rigid. It won’t take long for him to figure that out. All I need to do is keep him intrigued for long enough to get it before he loses interest.
There’s a dull ache below my ribs, and I press my palm into my chest, refusing to think about what it could mean.
Bash is going to help me get that tiara, and then I’m going to ditch him. It doesn’t matter how sweet his lips taste or how badly my body wants him. A deal is a deal, and I’m the one who’s ending this.
The bell on the coffee shop door jingles as I walk in, the comforting smell of freshly brewed coffee filling my nose. Located only a few shops down from my studio, I’ve been coming here since it opened.
Wood lines the walls in a modern pattern. The ceilings are painted black, with industrial lights hanging down, casting the cafe in a warm glow. There’s limited seating, just a few high-top tables, the place designed as a place to shop, not to hang out.
“Anastasia,” the barista calls to me. He’s in his early twenties, and he gives me a cocky smile that reminds me of someone else. He’s wearing a black uniform with a giant M on the front. “You haven’t stopped in in forever. You want the usual?”
I lift and drop my shoulders more casually than I feel. “Yes, please. Just a little busy. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.”
Another reminder my life’s been tipped upside down. I hadn’t realized I’d cut this indulgence from my routine, but now I can’t remember the last time I’ve been in here. It’s not like coffee is going to break the bank. We aren’t that poor, even though technically, we’re in the negatives. Still, I unconsciously stopped coming here.
Soon, I’ll get the tiara, give it to my grandmother, and they’ll help bail us out. We’ll be paying them back for the rest of our lives, but it’ll save the company. At least we’ll be better off than we are now.
I’d rather be indebted to my family than the loan sharks my dad chose.
“Here you go, and I threw in a little extra on the house. I want to see you back here.” He slides over a bag, and I can smell the sweet scent of fresh banana bread.
My head tilts to the side as I take him in. He’s acting a bit strange for someone his age. He shouldn’t care this much if I come in or not. He gives me a small smirk, and it’s then that I spot his phone number on the cup. The reason he’s so nice hits me in the chest. Oh my God. He’s hitting on me.
When did this even start?
“Um, thanks,” I mutter. This is entirely too awkward. Holding up the paper cup briefly between us, I give him a tight, closed-mouth smile before scurrying out. The bell dings as the door closes behind me. I don’t have the headspace to think about this.
The ride home is thankfully silent. All I want is to get home and sink into a hot bath.
I sigh as the front door lock clicks open. This morning felt like years instead of hours.
Something’s off the second I walk in, and my mouth drops open as my coffee cup drops to the floor, spraying everywhere. The place is completely empty. Chairs, sofas, rugs. Not a single thing left in place. I stumble backward until my shoulder blades connect with the door. It’s clear I’ve been robbed, but it’s such a strange thing to steal. It’s not like there’s a black market for used furniture.
I inhale deeply, slowing down the rapid beating of my heart. I need to think this through. Who would do this? Better yet, what could they possibly want?
A squirming buzz crawls under my skin, as I race my way to my bedroom. I nearly collapse when there’s nothing there. It’s been completely cleared out, just like the rest of the house. My feet are already running to the closet, and I collapse to my knees when there’s not a single piece of clothing.
They took the mask and the robe.
I’m bent forward, my forehead pressed against the floor, when my phone rings in my purse that I slung over my shoulder.
I drag myself up, the wait of just how screwed I am threatening to break my shoulders. Nikolai already explained that the punishment for losing the mask is worse than death. Obviously, since whoever has it could sneak in just like I did.
It rings again, and I clench it in my hand. I’ll probably break down if it’s my brother.
Unknown: Princess. It’s time you move in.
Unknown: 155 Torried Rd
Me: Give me my stuff back.
He ignores me, and my fingers twitch, gripping my phone hard enough the screen might crack at his next message.
Unknown: Key is on the counter.
Fire ignites, starting from my chest and exploding down to my fingertips. I’m going to kill Bash for this.
Sure enough, there’s a black key pass shaped like a credit card to easily fit into a wallet. I want to crush it into a million pieces. No, to burn it to dust.
I’d been so terrified for Nikolai, and it was all some devious plan to get me to move in with him?
Instead of crushing the card, I slip it into my pocket. I have a better plan.
I’m going to make Bash regret ever picking a fight with me.